


Leisure on the Ship

by LadyOfDragonstone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Smut, Jonerys, My babies are in love, Only respect for my King and Queen, Picks up on the Ship to White Habor, lots of kisses, they get drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfDragonstone/pseuds/LadyOfDragonstone
Summary: Jon & Daenerys attempt to fullfil their responsibilities as monarchs while coping with their personal desires.*              *               *“Is there something we have to discuss?” Jon asked her quietly, already knowing the answer.Daenerys sighed softly. She took his hand in hers as her anger ceased, kneading his fingers in her own. There were several topics both of them needed to discuss before leaving the comfort of her ship. They’ve known it since the first time he entered her chamber, but chose to never speak of it, and bask further into their pleasure. But Jon knew they would arrive in White Harbor soon, and winter was here.





	Leisure on the Ship

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in Tumblr by me, @Violet-eyes-silver-hair for Jonerys Secret Santa Gift
> 
> This was a fic made specially for @Punkeraa in Tumblr. You guys should follow her if you're into Jonerys or Reylo :)

He walked down the swaying, wooden steps into the lower part of the ship. Jon had found it difficult, at first, to accustom himself to the constant lurching and rocking of the floor beneath him. The first time he has been on a boat, he had sailed to Hardhome, but his mind had kept wandering to the Wildling army that awaited them at the time. On the trip back to the wall, he had been even more preoccupied to take notice of his surroundings. He had sailed many times since, from Bear Island to King’s Landing, and found it to be rather peaceful at times.

Davos, who had been born in Flea Bottom, had lodged in many fine castles and keeps through the years, yet he told Jon that he had always felt most at home in a swaying ship. The Onion knight had said that in his youth, he had often considered taking all the people he cared about and sail them away from the rest of the world. Jon had thought of the family that awaited him on Winterfell, his Direwolf, his brothers of the watch, and of Daenerys. He quietly agreed.

He strode forward to the door of a chamber that had been used a couple of times to hold council meetings whilst on their journey North, but was mostly used now for leisure. Jon had once walked in to see Varys, Tyrion, and Jorah drinking and speaking in hushed mourning tones around the table. But at his arrival, they had leapt to their feet, claiming of having other things to do. He had an uncomfortable feeling that they had been discussing him, or rather, Daenerys and him.

As he raised his fist to knock on the door, he hear muffled voices arguing rapidly, then the door burst open. Tyrion staggered back in surprise of seeing him by the door frame, but quickly recovered, throwing him an irritated look.

“I’ll leave you to discuss this amongst yourselves,” Tyrion snapped angrily over his shoulder. Jon raised his head to see Daenerys standing behind a table and glowering at the dwarf, “It would be in good faith for the two of you to have a conversation outside of a bed.”

Jon took a sharp breath in surprise, but Tyrion moved past him and shut the door, leaving him alone with Daenerys. She looked livid, clutching the table in front of her for balance as the ship faltered. Her knuckles turned white from her tight hold. She avoided his gaze and settled herself the chair behind her, letting go of the table. He stepped across the room and took the seat in front of her.

“Is there something we have to discuss?” he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Dany sighed softly. She took his hand in hers as her anger ceased, kneading his fingers in her own. There were several topics both of them needed to discuss before leaving the comfort of her ship. They’ve known it since the first time he entered her chamber, but chose to never speak of it, and bask further into their pleasure. But Jon knew winter was here.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, “The men say we’ll reach White Harbor soon.”

She nodded, understanding the meaning behind the words, and raised her eyes to look at him.

“Would you like to know why Tyrion was angry?” Daenerys asked.

“Aye, but I think you’re going to tell me either way.”

She let out a low chuckle and brought his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles.

“We had discussed it before, in Dragonstone, shortly after you left to Eastwatch,” she began, “I didn’t want to speak of it at the time, but tonight, I was the one to bring up the affair. You see, when I die-” Jon’s body froze, bewildered by the topic, “-My armies will have no place here. I intended to sail back the Dothraki to the Grass Lands after I won the throne. The Unsullied would be granted some lands in exchange for their service, and any that wish to leave may do so, but they will always need a leader to follow. That is their way.”

“But,” Dany continued, “If I die before I sit on the throne-”

“You won’t-” he interrupted.

“-But if I did,” she insisted, “There are two possible outcomes: Any Westerosi men under my service would steal my fleet or flee. The Unsullied would not be welcomed here, and would likely have to scrounge or fight for food. But they are not meek. The Dothraki would plunder as many villages as they could, taking men as their slaves and leaving chaos in their path. And my children-” her voice grew shaky, but she carried on “-My dragons would have no one to temper them. I fear what they could do in their rage. I once told Tyrion I didn’t wish to hear about my succession, not until I wore the crown. But that was before I went North of the wall. Tonight, I told him he was right. I need to choose an heir.”

His mind seemed to think of everything and nothing all at once. His mouth went dry. After a time of uneasy silence, he pulled his hand away. The skin at her lovely, pale neck pulsed as she swallowed.

“Or,” she said carefully, “They could unite behind someone else. They won’t fight for gold or titles, but they will follow strength. They’re capable of tearing apart the realm, but they could also bring peace to it.”

“No.” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

Daenerys flinched, but did not give in, “You’ve already been named a King. You’re a great warrior, and a good man. They will flock to you like birds. Even if I didn’t name you my heir, who do you think my people will turn to if I die?”

“Tyrion,” he answered, knowing it wasn’t true. The Unsullied might follow the dwarf if Grey Worm commanded them, but the Dothraki never would, “Anyone else.”

Daenerys let out a frustrated breath, and stood up.This had not been the topic he wanted to discuss. She walked to a cabinet Tyrion used to store his wine and pulled out a flagon of wine and two goblets. She walked past her chair and settled herself down next to him, and poured the wine. Jon took the goblet she offered him, letting their fingers brush. Had he not been so weary, he might have found it erotic when she took a long sip of her wine without shying away from his gaze. She placed her glass down and sighed.

“Why don’t you want to be my heir?”

“Don’t want to be king,” He said simply and gulped down some wine,

She narrowed her eyes, “You already are a King.”

Jon felt a prickle of irritation at that, but his anger melted when he saw the sadness is Daenerys’ eyes. He put down his own glass and took her hand again. He massaged her fingers between his thumb and forefinger as he thought of a reply.

“I don’t think I could be the king you need me to be if you were dead,” he clarified, “You’re the one that brought all these people together. You, Daenerys, not me.”

“And if I wasn’t dead?”

The question was simple, but Jon had a hard time finding a fitting answer.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I came here tonight because I thought it was time for us to-” he lowered his eyes to their joint hands “-speak about these things.”

She frowned, “I know the North is your home. I don’t want to ask you to choose between your family and me-”

“Then don’t ask it of me,” he said boldly, edging closer to her, “I know the Queen in you worries about it. It worries me too, Dany. How will our people fare? What will the Northerners say? But it doesn’t matter-”

“Jon-” she protested.

“We don’t know if we can win this war-” he pleaded, “-Or the one after it. I’ve fought and died, and I’m ready to do it again, but we need something worth living for. I’ve no wish to stop being with you, not for politics or titles,” he cupped her face in his hands, “I don’t want to lose what we already have over the prospect of something that might never be. I won’t ask you to put aside the throne for me, but don’t shy away from me in fear of what might come.”

“I don’t think I could stop either,” she whispered. Her breath felt hot on his skin.

Daenerys closed the space between them and pressed her lips to his. Letting her hands roam to the back of his neck and up his curls. They kissed slowly and deeply, only pulling away to take in sharp breaths of air before colliding again. He had let go of her face to place one hand on the small of her back and another around her waist, pulling her closer. Sometime during their bliss, she had ended up sitting on his lap. Dany gasped and let out a low chuckle in between her heaving breaths.

“We ought to take this to my chamber,” she breathed out, closing her eyes as his lips trailed from the side of her lips down to her neck.

“Hmm,” Jon groaned into her neck, then lifted his head to look at her, “Perhaps we should have more conversations outside of bed.”

He could feel her body tense. Her face took a cautious expression as she struggled to catch her breath. Jon pressed another soft kiss and rubbed her back to soothe her worry. Daenerys sighed contently and snuggled against his chest.

“Alright,” she agreed, lazily stroking the curls at his nape.

“I hope you like Winterfell. Its not the grandest castle, but its the ancestral home to the King’s of Winter.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “Home. I had hoped that Dragonstone would feel like home. It didn’t, but it was beautiful anyhow. I like to see Winterfell soon.”

“We’ll be there soon. Winterfell was where I grew up, but it didn’t feel like home either. A castle is no place for a bastard.”

Jon hadn’t meant to sound so dismal. He looked away, uncomfortably aware of their different ancestry. As a boy, he had thought himself an abomination born out of wedlock, thanks to Lady Catlyn, half a Stark and half a nobody. He had given up hope of ever finding out who his mother was. But Daenerys was a Targaryen, heir to the throne. That might have bothered him once, but he was a King now, and man grown. He had fought dead men, seen dragons, and escaped death. Many might have thought him greedy, but he felt like it was his fate to meet her and be at her side.

“Perhaps I’ll give you a home someday,” she said. Jon knew from the uncertainty in her voice that she also feared what might come after arriving in the North.

“Daenerys,” he breathed out, “Marry me.”

He could feel her heart beating furiously against him. The only other sound around them was the lulling pull and push of the waves against the ship’s wooden belly.

“You said you didn’t know if you could be king,” she reminded him, her voice shaky.

“Aye, I don’t know. But I know that I want to be at your side no matter what happens. Being a Queen is part of you, I know that, but I want to marry the woman I’ve come to know, not just the Queen. Forget our family names and our titles. Forget all of it. We’ll fight for our people and-” he swallowed thickly “-and die if we must. But let’s take this one risk for ourselves.”

Dany trailed her fingers from his neck to his jaw, cupping his face and pulling him closer for another kiss. His felt felt dizzy, and his limbs were heavy. Slightly dazed, his hands fumbled clumsily to the back of her head. She smiled into the kiss, but pulled away abruptly.

“Of course,” she replied, “I’d love to be your wife, Jon Snow.” Daenerys seemed to pause, taking a deep breath, “I love you.”

He let out a nervous chuckle and pressed another chaste kiss on her lips before saying: “I love you too.”

She snickered nervously again, exited at the prospect of marrying him. The sight made his chest flood with warmth.

“When shall we marry?” She asked, almost giddily. He could barely recognized the same stoic Queen he met in Dragonstone many moons ago. “When we reach Winterfell?”

“We can marry whenever you’d like, My Queen, but it would please me very much if my family was there.”

“Alright. Winterfell,” she decided, grinning.

“You look so beautiful,” he murmured in her ear, “Which Gods would you prefer?”

“I’ll be your wife in the sight of any Gods, My King,” she replied, and added “As long as you don’t expect me to cook for you.”

Jon gave a roaring laugh, that startled her so much, she nearly fell off his lap. She placed her arms around his neck for balance, as he pulled her closer to him, chuckling. They stared at each other in edgy delight. They still shared a lot of first moments, and this had been the first time they voiced their devotion without any coyness. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not marrying you for your cooking. And I hope you don’t ask it of me either, since my cooking is not fit for a queen.”

Now it was her turn to laugh, “You know how to cook?”

He shrugged, “I used to be Lord Commander Mormont’s steward.”

Daenerys was taken aback at hearing the name, but she blinked her surprise away and smiled.

“A steward turned Lord Commander, turned King,” she said sweetly, “They’ll write songs about you.”

“The bastard King,” Jon said sarcastically, “No, I’d much rather hear songs about you, Dany.”

She unseated herself from his lap to refill their cups, handing him one.

“They’ll sing about both of us,” she declared, “Let’s drink to it. To the King in the North and his Dragon Queen.”

After drinking their fill, they alternated between serious speculation of the war and the future, and drunk banter punctuated with laughs and kisses. She admitted that it had been the first time she had been properly drunk, and while Jon did not like drinking that often, he found himself promising her that it wouldn’t be the last time.

They sneaked out of the planning chamber, hand in hand, and barred themselves in his room for the rest of the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me what you liked :)


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